


Soft To Be Strong

by annamariestark



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Smut, Vampire AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-10 22:20:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20142904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annamariestark/pseuds/annamariestark
Summary: Asra has perfected his art. Will this young human tear it all to bits?





	1. It's Hard to be Soft

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @flutter_field for being my idea bouncer and beta reader. <3

Asra was thirsty. So, so, _thirsty._ Anything would do, he thought at that point. Anything, any_one_. It had been weeks since his last good meal, and he was growing tired. He favored young women, he always had, since he’d turned. They were always willing to please him, pliant to his wishes, his desires. It was all too easy to get close to them, to take them to bed, and then take what he _really_ wanted. By this time, he was well-practiced, clean in his methods. If there was a body, he knew when and where to dispose of it. If he let her live, well, it was a simple thing to make her forget him. He’d been a magician, when he had been human, and though he still retained some of his old abilities, most of them had faded in favor of the feral nature of the creature he’d become.

He crouched in an alley outside the Rowdy Raven, waiting. Sooner or later someone was bound to exit the back door, and he’d strike. He shuddered, feeling the ache in his gut, the yearning for wet, hot, _rushing_ blood, pouring into his throat from a willing individual. However, he supposed tonight he would have to make do with what he could get. Hours passed, and he stretched languidly, his fluffy white curls falling in his eyes, but his whole body stiffened as he heard the door creak open. He hurriedly pushed his hair from his face, watching the door intently. A younger man slipped out, laughing to himself. Not what he wanted, but it would do in a pinch. He all but slithered to his inevitable victim, reaching out to tap him on the shoulder.

“It’s late,” he said smoothly, eyeing the fellow with half-lidded eyes. “You should be careful.” The man spun on his heel.

“Oh?” He sauntered closer. “And why? You don’t look too—” His words were cut off as Asra leapt on him, fangs bared and ready, flashing in the moonlight. He pinned his victim easily, teeth finding the sweet spot at the base of his jaw, sinking into the flesh like a hot knife through butter. He winced. This man’s blood was bitter. But he still drank deeply, draining the poor fool nearly dry before depositing his body into the canal for the vampire eels to finish off. He wiped the blood from his lips, licking his fingers as he strolled leisurely down from the south side of town to the docks.

“_I know it’s hard to be soft…”_ He heard a young woman’s voice, sweet notes carried to him on the night breeze.

_“I know it hurts to be kind… _

_I know that when love is lost… _

_It’s only fear in disguise…_”

“Perfect,” he hissed under his breath. He stood at the edge of the cobblestone, toeing the old, weathered wood of the dock. She didn’t seem to notice he was there, she stared across the water where the moon rose, radiant in the night sky. Her hair, he noted, was a startling copper color, cropped short in a boyish style.

_Easy access_, he thought, licking his lips. Even better.

“_And I guess I've known it all along_

_The truth is, you have to be soft to be strong…_

_Finally, I feel the fear is gone_

_I found out love has to be soft to be strong,_

_Soft to be strong,_

_Soft…”_

Fear. He sneered to himself. He’d show her fear. Eventually. But first…

“_I believe the world is beautiful…_

_Only the weak ones are cruel_…”

“A lovely song,” he approached her cautiously. She did not look at him, but continued to stare out at the ocean.

“My mother taught it to me,” she said quietly. She stood, brushing a few stray flecks of sand from her skirts before turning to face him.

If his heart hadn’t stopped long ago, it would have done so then. Her eyes were a startling aquamarine, and their gaze pierced through him even more sharply than he desired her body, her blood.

“You… uh… you sing it well.” Did he just stutter? He had. What was wrong with him? He settled into a firm glamour and eased closer to her.

“Thanks,” she replied brightly.

“You should keep singing,” he told her quietly. “You’ve got talent.”

“I really should get home, is what I should do,” she laughed quietly. “But maybe some other time.” Was she refusing him? He’d never been refused before. He willed the glamour stronger and took one step closer.

“Might I walk you?”

“I don’t know you,” she tilted her head. “How do I know you’re safe?”

“You don’t,” he whispered all-too-truthfully. “But I promise I won’t hurt you.”

_Not yet, anyway._

“I guess it’s fine,” she shrugged. “I’m Anna, by the way.”

“Asra,” he breathed, as she crossed the dock to stand next to him. She was small, he noticed, the top of her head barely cresting his shoulder. Short, and small-boned, but not unhealthy. She looked strong, and her smile shone vibrant in the moonlight.

True to his word, he walked her to her home, a small cottage on the outskirts of town. He did not lay a finger on her, and reluctantly let his glamour fall away. She did not speak much on the way, and he did not press. He bade her goodnight with a kiss on the hand, delighting in the way a flush rose on her neck. Gods, he wanted her. He could smell her blood, running just under the fragile skin of her wrist. But for some inexplicable reason, he wanted to wait. Take his time. Maybe she could be more than just a one-night stand and a singular meal.

_Too much of a gentleman, Asra_, he chided himself. _Take her home, have your way with her, and be done with it._ _Take her to your bed, kiss her senseless, slip her clothes off—_

_No, no, no! Don’t hurt her. You can’t._ He was surprised at himself, but he shrugged it off hurriedly as she turned to him, a shy smile on her face now that they’d stilled in front of her door.

“Goodnight,” she said, with a voice as sweet as her blood smelled. She unlocked the door and slipped inside, and she was gone.

\---

He waited outside her cottage for three days, observing her comings and goings. She seldom went out in the evenings, to his dismay. While the daylight did not deter him from moving about in public, he much preferred the cover of darkness.

Finally, she went out one night, and he got up the courage to follow her to the town square, where a small party seemed to be going on. She was dressed nicely, a beaded shawl knotted around her waist over her skirts, a flowing blouse. She was barefoot, he noticed, and she danced in the square alone, seemingly without a care in the world. He stepped to her, halting her dance, feeling a twinge of—_what even could he call it?_ She stopped in front of him.

“Fancy seeing you here, Anna,” he grinned.

“Asra, was it? What brings you out tonight?” He winced slightly at the way her face lit up when she saw him.

“I saw the merriment, thought I’d see what the fuss was about. I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he fibbed.

_What's one more lie?_

“Well, here I am,” she smiled, those striking eyes glinting in the lantern light, and he swore his heart, the same one that hadn’t moved in over a decade-- skipped a beat.

“Care to dance with me?” He offered his hand, bowing slightly, and she laughed, a lilting, musical laugh that sent a twisting feeling into the pit of his stomach.

“Sure.” She took his hand, and he pulled her closer, soaking in her scent. Her perfume was spicy-sweet, mingling perfectly with the scent of her blood, making him want her all the more, but he couldn’t.

_Not yet._

Instead, he let their bodies move together in dance, one hand on her waist, leading their movements over the marble stones of the square. When the dance concluded, he didn’t let go, and she stared up at him.

“Asra, the song is over.”

_Release her, you idiot._

“Oh, of course, my apologies,” he murmured, letting her go. She didn’t step back far.

“Do you live around here?” She inquired.

“On the other side of the market, where the old magic shop used to be.”

“Oh. I used to sell my mother’s remedies there. I was just a girl then. I was sad when they closed. I don’t really remember much other than the stained-glass windows.”

“How old are you?” He ventured.

_Just how much might I regret you?_

“Twenty-two,” she answered.

“Why don’t you remember anything else?”

“I was thrown from a horse when I was thirteen,” she sighed. “I was nearly killed, almost trampled to death. I still have spots in my memories that I can’t reach, the doctor said they’ll likely never come back. Why do you ask, anyway?”

“Mere curiosity. Apologies if it seemed that I was prying.”

“It’s fine,” she said, but he could hear the cautious tone to her voice. “Is there… anything else you want to know?”

“Not right now, but I’ll let you know if any questions come to mind.”

It was perfect. She was perfect. Why couldn’t he do it? It was simple. He had simplified the process so well over the years. Find the girl. Kiss the girl. Get her into bed. Take her body. Take her blood. Dispose of her. Easy. He regarded the small form standing before him, still eyeing him expectantly.

“Would you like to find someplace a little more… private?” He raised an eyebrow.

“We could go back to the docks, if you want,” she offered.

_Not private enough. Not for what I want from you._

“Sure,” he all but croaked. If she noticed his hesitation, she did not let on, and together, they crossed town to the spot where he’d found her nights prior, singing her heart out to the rising moon. She took a seat where she’d been before, and he dropped to join her.

“What is it that you like about this place?” He asked.

“I love the sea,” she answered simply.

“Were you born at sea?”

“Oh, no, I was born in the same cottage I live in now,” she laughed. “I just like to watch the waves, smell the breeze… What are you looking at?” She glanced up at him, noticing his stare. His eyes were amethyst, the same as they’d been in life, and they were trained on her features as she spoke.

“I’m just listening to you, that’s all.” A blush rose on her face. She’d be the death of him yet—Again, at that.

“What about you? Where are you from?”

“Born and raised in Vesuvia,” he told her quietly. It wasn’t actually a lie. He had lived his life here, just as he’d had his death here. Twelve years ago, when he’d found himself in the wrong alley at the wrong time of night. He’d been twenty-eight then, he supposed he’d be twenty-eight forever, now. He sighed wistfully.

“Are you okay?” He felt a hand touch his arm and recoiled sharply. She jumped away as if touching him had burned her.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again, gods, he was constantly _apologizing_ to this little human, “I got a little carried away in my memories there, and you startled me.” He tentatively moved to wrap an arm around her shoulders. He was pleased when she scooted closer to allow him to pull her close against his own body. He could hear her heart fluttering. If he was going to take the chance, now was the time. He turned to her, leaning down to kiss her. His lips were inches from her own when she raised an eyebrow and pulled back slightly.

“Now hang on, I don’t really know you all that well yet,” she admonished him. “Do you normally do this with girls you’ve just met?”

“No,” he lied.

_Yes. This, this and worse. Run away, little one, while you still can. Run away from me._

“Oh really,” she said, shrugging his arm away from her shoulders to place her hands firmly on her hips. “Just because you’re handsome doesn’t mean you can go around kissing any girl you want, you know.”

“I—what!” He sputtered. She’d just called him on his game. 

_How dare she._

“You heard me,” she stood, pointing at him indignantly. “Just because you’re… you’re… _pretty_… that doesn’t mean you can just take what you want. At least ask first. Gods.” She turned on her heel and stalked away without another word.

He let her get a head start before trailing her home.


	2. It Hurts to Be Kind

_How, how on the gods’ green earth had she avoided his charms like that?_ He pondered as he sat outside her back door, rain pouring around him. He had seen she made it home safely, and in the wee hours of the morning was stuck there still, mystified at how she’d dodged him as she had. But oh, now, the game was on. He would have her, he decided. However much he had to fight. He wanted her, he’d have her, it was as simple as that. Or was it? She had already proven to be much more... _observant_ than his normal fare. Of course he’d pick one this stubborn. Was that the right word? He wasn’t entirely sure. Perhaps it was karma for all the girls who’d fallen before her, he didn’t rightly know, couldn’t fathom. One thing he did know: _this wasn’t supposed to happen._

Around noon with the sun high in the sky, he stumbled to his feet, brushing the dirt away from his clothes, and set out into the forest. The cool greenery welcomed him. The sun didn’t hurt him, but it wasn’t altogether pleasant, and the shade of the trees was a nice change from the blistering heat of the summer. He spent several hours scouring for flowers he thought she might like, before bundling them together, taking them in hand and mustering the willpower to walk to her door, as if nothing had happened. He knocked twice, sharply, and before he could strike the wood a third time, she answered. She looked from him to the flowers he held, and her expression changed from somewhat puzzled to plain irritated, before he found the door slammed in his face, blowing petals off the bouquet to curl lazily in the afternoon air, landing in the dust around his boots. He sighed heavily, tucking the flowers into the empty window box next to the door before slinking away. He was growing thirsty again, and all this inane chasing wasn’t helping. He wanted blood, and it needed to be hers.

_She’s more than blood_, he caught himself thinking on more than one occasion. It had been weeks now since she’d slammed the door in his face. He’d found a few other girls who had been permissible at best, but there hadn’t been that spark, that overpowering and altogether strange desire he’d felt when he saw Anna. He had dragged himself away from her house, garnering some solace in his local haunts, but he kept finding himself back there, night after night.

Of course she wasn’t more than blood.

_No. No, no, no._ She was _so_ much more. Soft, smooth skin. A lithe body. He remembered the way she moved with him when they’d danced. The way that copper-colored hair framed her pale face, the bridge of her nose smattered with freckles that somehow looked like they were arranged _just so_. Plush, pink lips, high cheekbones, the blush that had risen on them when they’d talked… And those eyes. Those eyes that looked like the deep ocean on a clear summer’s day. The eyes that stopped him in his tracks.

_She’s just blood, Asra, get that through your thick skull already._

He saw her in the market a week later, at dusk, bartering for some vegetables. Over one arm was slung the handle of a basket, some bottles tinkling inside, next to a loaf of bread and what smelled like some fish, wrapped in paper and twine. He lagged behind her a way as she continued to move past the stalls, and watched her like a hawk. He’d nearly gained on her when the toe of his boot caught on an errant stone in the street, and down he went. She turned in shock at the commotion, the laughter from passersby.

If he could have blushed, he would have. How fucking embarrassing. He hadn’t fallen since he was human, his senses, reflexes, they were much too good now. He wondered at that moment who was falling prey to whom, exactly, in this equation? He winced as a pair of black shoes stopped in front of him. An emerald-colored skirt swished around delicate ankles.

“Are you following me?” He could hear her clear voice over the crowd easily.

“Not at all,” he jumped to his feet quickly, smoothing his shirt and coat. “I know better than that.”

_Idiot._ He berated himself. _If you knew better you'd have taken her that first night, or better yet, given up this absurd mission of yours._

“I do need apologize, however,” he sighed heavily. “I was more than out of line, that night at the dock, and I’m sorry. I should have asked before…”

“I forgive you,” she cut him off. “Just don’t let it happen again,” she finished tersely, before she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

It was a month before he saw her again. The night before, he’d sought the company of a girl who looked almost similar to her, and oh, how he’d imagined it were her, right down to the moment he bit into the young woman’s femoral artery, felt that blessed spray of blood in the back of his parched throat. He sighed as he drank, blocking out the cries from his victim. It wasn’t the same. Fantasy was just that, and he could drink a thousand girls dry and be happy for doing so, but they weren’t Anna.

_Or, I could drink of Anna a thousand times, and I’d be happy… _He lost himself in those swirling thoughts, and before he knew it, he’d drained the girl completely. He dumped her body much as he had the others.

It was always easiest to blame the eels.

\---

In the morning, he stopped by the baker, purchasing two loaves of pumpkin bread. He’d loved this bread when he had been human. He took the loaves and tucked them carefully into his bag, making for Anna’s cottage, knocking at the door three times, stepping back so as not to appear threatening. He had to knock once more before she came to the door in her night shirt, hair sticking up every which way, yawning wide.

_How charming. If only... no. Stop._

“What is so… oh, it’s you. What do you want?” She peered up at him, stifling another yawn.

“I brought you something,” he tried to will himself to choose his words carefully. “I wanted to more formally apologize for my behavior. He whisked the loaves of pumpkin bread from his bag, presenting them to her.

“That’s a lot of bread for one person,” she eyed it sleepily, “but I think I can make it work for something. Thank you.” She reached to take it from him, and he shivered as he felt her fingers brush his own.

“May I come in?” He asked innocently.

_Right, you, innocent. Don’t kid yourself._

“It’s too early,” she tilted her head.

He frowned internally. “Ah, yes, I suppose it is.”

_Stupid, stupid, Asra. _

“But you can come back later,” she told him softly. “Maybe sometime in the afternoon? I have a lot of work to do this morning.”

“I’ll do that, then,” he promised.

He never left the area, instead taking a cat-nap in a tree not far from her front door, waking a bit later than he’d intended. It was late afternoon, the sun streaming down through the branches of his makeshift bed. He leapt to the ground and returned to her door. She opened it before he could knock.

“Oh, there you are. I was beginning to think I’d scared you off,” she chuckled.

“Admittedly, my nap ran a bit long,” he confessed. “But I didn’t forget about you.”

“Come in,” she invited him, and he stepped over the threshold with glee. He was in her house. Finally. It was charming, mismatched furniture and patterns galore. Teacups hung from small hooks in the kitchen area, and she took two down.

“Tea?” She offered.

“No thank you,” he declined politely, eyeing the pan of torn-up bread lying on her table, and a white fox peeking up at it from one of the dining chairs.

“Don’t even think about it, Arian,” She chided the animal. It huffed and slunk down from the chair, and Asra swore he saw it glare at him. Was it a familiar? Gods, he hoped not. Dare he... _pray_?

“Are you a magician?” He asked nervously.

“Oh, no, just an apothecary,” she waved his words away. “I’ve never done magic in my life. I’m good with herbs though, my mother taught me a lot before she died, and now I do what she used to. I rescued Arian when he was a kit, his family had left him behind in a hole outside my back door. He’s been living with me since I can remember.”

“Before or after your accident?”

“After.”

Arian approached Asra slowly, sniffing the air around him. Whether he was satisfied in his findings or not, he turned his nose up and darted under an old threadbare armchair in the corner of the living area.

“He’s not much used to strangers, I’m sorry,” Anna apologized.

“So, what are you doing with that perfectly good bread I brought you?” Asra cocked his head to one side.

“It’ll make a lovely bread pudding,” she said happily. “It’s been sitting out all day, it should be nearly ready to use. Won’t you stay for some?”

“Oh, ah, I’m allergic to pumpkin,” he replied.

_Stupid. Allergic to pumpkin. Really?_

“That’s too bad. It’s going to be good. I’m excited about it.”

“I’m sure it’ll be just as sweet as you are,” he fixed her with a warm smile.

“Oh, please,” she rolled her eyes. “Do you use that expression on all the girls?”

“You seem to have this preconception that I get around,” he ventured. “Where did that come from?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant…” She blushed, flustered. “I’m sorry.”

_It’s about time she apologized for something,_ he thought, frustrated. _Come on. You are in her house. Just take her. Be done with it._

“I should go,” he sighed. “It’s nearing nightfall, and I’d prefer not to come across as any more improper than I already have.”

“You don’t have to go,” she sounded disappointed, and it gave him just the slightest bit of hope. Perhaps he could tilt the scales in his favor after all.

"On the contrary. It's time for me to bid you goodnight, Anna." He let himself out, cursing under his breath as he walked away from the warm light of her home and into the last rays of the setting sun.


	3. To Be Human

Asra picked off another young man behind the Raven for his meal before turning in for the night. Reluctantly, he went to his own home, unlocking the door, sighing as he stepped into the room that had once been a bright and cheery magic shop. He could barely remember it, even if he imagined with all his might. Some of the shelves still held crystals, talismans, odds and ends. Most of it he had bartered away in exchange for clothing or other goods. All of it held a fair amount of dust. He never bothered to clean down here, anyway. Usually by the time he brought a woman through the door they were too wrapped up in each other for her to notice the state of the old shop, and it was always straight upstairs and to bed, until he had to take the body out later on.

_You should have done it, you fool._ He sat the rest of the night in quiet contemplation. Maybe that wasn’t the right word. He hurled every insult he could at himself. At her. How _dare_ she defy him like this. All he wanted was a little bit of blood.

_Oh, and her life._

But forcibly taken blood was never the most satisfying. It was always best when freely given. And oh, how he loved for his victims to beg. Beg to be bitten, to be taken. A lot of the younger ones begged to be turned. Those he was always sure to drain dry. No sense in creating another creature like himself that would follow him around, chattering incessantly, having the wrong idea about what the nature of their union had been. He’d made that mistake only once, and though it had been painful to have to dispose of the youngling he’d made, he knew he was doing the right thing. He couldn’t have anything getting in the way of his practices, of his carefully built semblance of a life here in Vesuvia.

_They’re only blood for a reason, Asra. What are you doing with this girl? She’ll destroy you if you keep this shit up. End this. End it now._

With a renewed ambition, he left his home, setting out for hers. He slipped easily into an open window.

_Foolish of her to have invited me in_.

Anna was sleeping peacefully, perched in the armchair, a cup of tea gone cold on the table beside her. Next to it, he presumed, a plate containing a bit of bread pudding she’d made. It smelled delectable, and he wished for a split second that human food still satisfied him. He could eat it, if he needed to keep up a guise, but it tasted bland now. He might as well chew on paper, it tasted roughly the same. Regardless, it warmed his fractured soul to see that she’d done something with his gift. Something to make herself happy. She certainly deserved happiness.

_Not like she'll find it with you._

He reached for her arm. It would be so, so easy, so quick. But before he could touch her, she stirred, and he froze.

“Asra,” she murmured under her breath. His own breath caught in his throat.

_This is wrong. Wrong, all wrong. How did this happen?_

He backed away hastily, knocking the table next to her chair. The teacup fell to the floor with a clatter, breaking on contact, tea spilling onto the threadbare rug.

_Shit._ In moments, he was out the window, before she could awaken.

He was pleased the next morning to find her in the market. She was poring over a selection of stoneware and tea cups.

“Anna,” he greeted her warmly. “It’s nice to see you, as always.” She looked resplendent today, in an azure skirt the color of her eyes, a white blouse that made the freckles on her skin stand out that much more.

“Oh, good morning,” she smiled up at him, teeth flashing pearly white behind those lips he so wanted to kiss. He was sure they were soft, so soft…

_Stop. It._

“What brings you out today?” He moved to stand at her side, quietly observing her as she picked through the vendor’s wares.

“Oh, I must have knocked over my favorite tea cup in my sleep last night,” she laughed. “I’m looking for a replacement.”

_You absolute idiot, you broke her favorite cup._ Such a small thing to scold himself for, but he’d lost count of the reprimands he’d issued himself in regards to this enigma standing next to him.

“That’s unfortunate,” he grimaced. “Had you had it long?”

“My mother gave it to me when I was young,” she answered, biting her lip.

_Let _me_ bite that lip_, he hissed internally.

_If only. Stay on track._

“Extremely unfortunate. My apologies.” More apologies. At this point, he should have just apologized to her for his existence in her life, and moved on.

She giggled. “Why are _you_ apologizing? It’s just a cup.” She picked up a lavender one with delicate pink flowers swirling over the porcelain. “I think this will make a suitable replacement. Who knows, maybe Arian knocked it over. He certainly got to the bite of bread pudding I didn’t finish well enough; he was still licking the sauce from his paws when I woke up.”

“Silly fox,” Asra chuckled. Thank the gods for a solid excuse for a broken cup, of all the things. Since when did he care _so_ much?

Anna handed over a sunflower-yellow scarf to the vendor as payment for the cup, another deep red one for it to be wrapped in for safekeeping. She accepted it back with a smile, and turned to fully face Asra.

“Have you eaten breakfast yet? I know a good place.”

“I’m not much for breakfast, in all honesty,” he shrugged.

“Do you _ever_ eat?” She giggled again.

“Once in a while,” he flashed her a toothy grin. “When the mood strikes me.”

“Come on, entertain me just a bit,” she urged.

“Fine, fine,” he gave in. “Where are we going?”

She reached out, lacing her fingers with his own. He stilled his breathing before he could let out a gasp. Her hand was so warm, so very warm.

“You’re cold,” she examined the golden-brown skin of his hand in hers.

“I’m always cold,” he replied. “Lead the way, Anna.”

She took him to a small tea room on the edge of the market. They took seats outside, and he endured some toast and eggs, all to watch her in the early morning sun.

“Are you happy, Anna?” He asked her suddenly, as they sat in silence, sipping the last of their drinks. He’d opted for coffee, not that it made any difference at all to him. She set her cup down carefully and patted her lips with a napkin before laying it aside. Oh, how he wished she’d stop drawing attention to those godforsaken lips of hers.

“I suppose so,” she shrugged. “Why do you ask?”

“Curious.”

“Are you?”

“Am I, what?” Asra stared at her, puzzled.

“Are you _happy_, Asra?”

“Oh. Of course. I… I don’t really know nowadays,” he confessed, and for once it wasn’t a lie. He’d been content, before she’d come along. Now he didn’t know what he was.

“What makes you say that?” She furrowed her brow.

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind. I must say though, spending these few moments we have together has been nice.”

“Even when I slammed the door in your face?” She snickered. “You know, I nearly pushed you off the dock that night you tried to kiss me.”

“I would have deserved it. I hope you still forgive me.”

“Well, if it means that much to you, I _suppose_ so.” She made a face at him, and he grinned.

“I will say, if I may be so bold,” he said cautiously, “that I’d be happy to spend more time with you, if you were amenable to that.”

_Asking to spend time with a woman. For _fun_. You’ve snapped._

“I’d like that,” she smiled at him, eyes twinkling.

He dropped a couple coins on the table for their breakfast, much to her protest, and walked her back to the market, where she insisted she’d be fine to walk herself home.

“Please be safe,” he begged her. Since when did he beg?

_Since now, evidently, you big soft idiot._

“I’ll be fine, Asra. I’ve been walking this same path for years now. There’s nothing scary out there that’s going to jump out and get me, don’t worry.” And with that she turned to leave. He watched her go, but did not follow this time.

_No, you’re leaving the scary behind. Run. Run away._


	4. Life is Strange

Asra called on Anna the following afternoon, and she let him into her home again with that bright, that _exhausting_ smile that he’d grown to enjoy so much. He sat at her dining table while she ground the herbs she’d collected earlier in the day, asking her questions about distilling oils, making salves, and so forth. Surely, the best way to get close to her was this, he thought. But he found that he enjoyed the time, and he learned some things from her, not that he’d ever use them. Her voice, her presence, were soothing. If he could just get over the overwhelming desire to drink her blood, that was.

Her fox companion had been eyeing him warily since he’d entered, and he wondered again for a fraction of a second if it and Anna could speak to one another.

“Arian, leave Asra alone,” she scooped the fox up, smoothing his fur. “He’s not done anything to either of us, you should be more hospitable.” He heard the animal snort before it jumped from her arms, ducking again out of sight.

“Not to insinuate that I'm bored,” he remarked, later in the afternoon, “but you’ve been at this a bit. I know that I’m famished. Should we step out for a bit, get some fresh air? A bite to eat, maybe?”

_You think you’re funny, don’t you, Asra?_

“You know what, that sounds like a good plan.” She put her work aside, and removed the apron she’d been wearing. More bright colors adorned her small frame today, a startlingly colored pink skirt, but it seemed she always wore the same white flowing shirts. He thought the look suited her well.

_You know what else would suit her well? Keeping her blood _inside_ her body._

They wandered to the market, wandering a bit through a variety of wares, necklaces to magic items to clothing. She bought a deep indigo, fringed shawl from one vendor, trading a small tin, promising it to be a salve that would help with back pain. She immediately pulled the fabric around her shoulders, protecting herself from the cooler night air blowing in from the sea.

“Do you always barter for the goods you buy here?” He asked.

“Usually,” she told him. “My mother never had much money, bartering was just easier. Most of my customers don’t have a lot of coin, they pay me in food, clothing, and so on. It’s how I grew up, and old habits are hard to break, aren’t they?” She smiled at him again.

_Gods, if only you knew._

Eventually, they settled on finding enough odds and ends to make a meal, before returning to her cottage. She made dinner for the two of them while he told her stories from his childhood, at least, the few that he could remember. He got lost in her laughing, her witty replies, everything about her was as if he was dreaming. But he knew he wasn’t, and he knew that sooner or later, he _would_ take her. That thought alone kept him grounded. He accepted the food she set in front of him, salt-grilled fish with vegetables, digging in with gusto, wishing he could taste it the way it was intended. He joked throughout the meal, hellbent on getting her out of her shell more, getting her to trust him. He needed her trust. It would make the end easier.

_Monster._

The thought came to him unbidden, and he willed it away just as quickly. He was doing this to _survive._ He had to have blood. She had what he sought. Simple. Always so simple. It had been before, anyway. He wasn’t sure now how he’d become so tangled up in her. Even more so, why he continued to wrestle with himself over her. Who needed morals? He was a vampire. His goal in this so-called life was singular. Exist. But to exist, he needed blood. It always came back around to the blood.

He helped her to clear the dishes, to wash and dry them, and after they were done, she returned to her work, but after a while, a thought struck him. He wanted to be close to her. Just close, that's all.

“Anna, would you dance with me?” He interrupted her reverie, and she looked up, clearly perplexed.

“Dance? There’s no music.”

“We don’t need music,” he said smoothly, rising from the table in hopes of pulling her from the counter where she stood. She put down her pestle, took off her apron, and took the hand he offered, but she still regarded him with an amused expression as he pulled her close. He placed an arm once more around her waist, closing any gaps between them. They were slotted together perfectly, and he gulped. He could, if he wanted to. He could do it now.

_No._

He began to sway, a tune from his childhood wafting through his head. He wasn’t sure how he remembered it, but he used it to his advantage, leading her around her small living area much in the same way that he’d done so that night at the party. She moved with him effortlessly, resting her head on his shoulder, her small arms wrapped around his own waist.

“You could sing for us,” he suggested quietly, rubbing small circles on her back. “You do have that beautiful voice of yours.”

“You’ll laugh,” she said, her voice muffled by his coat, “but I can’t sing and dance like this at the same time. I’ll trip over my own feet. It’s one or the other.”

“Ah, well, I’d much rather dance with you then,” he confessed. “As much as I adore your voice, being close to you is… nice.” He rested his chin on the top of her head.

“Hmm, this is nice, isn’t it?”

He stopped suddenly, and she looked up at him, confused. He was eyeing her with some strange mixture of hunger and desire, and she tilted her head.

“Anna,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “May I kiss you? Please?”

“Yes,” she replied, just as quietly. He lowered his lips to hers, leaving a gentle and chaste kiss. He was pleased to see her eyes flutter shut, and he let his do the same. He pulled back a fraction of an inch, just for a second, giving her ample time to back away. She did not.

“Is that all?” She breathed.

“Not if you don’t want it to be,” he whispered against her lips.

She kissed him then, and her lips were like fire against his own. He brought his hands to cup her face, letting a couple fingers slip, resting them over the pulsing arteries in her neck, feeling her blood rushing there as her heart hammered in her chest. He could hear it, could feel her breath coming out ragged with every kiss. He parted his lips expectantly, and she did the same. He licked her bottom lip experimentally, before nipping it gently, being careful to keep his fangs in check. She squeaked in surprise, but did not stop. When she did finally pull away to catch her breath, she was flushed from her collarbone up, and he gazed down at her with a fondness he’d never felt, not for anyone.

_Do it. Now. While she’s dazed. _

Instead, he pulled her to the small sofa that sat under the large window in the room. The moon shone brightly through the glass, vying for attention with the glow from the hearth. He sat back, placed hands on her hips, guiding her to straddle his lap, and she did so without protest. Could it be that she was finally coming around? He wrapped arms around her, pulling her lips to his again. Gods, he could kiss her forever.

_You could, you know, if you turned her._

Ugh. He was getting tired of that voice in his head. He wished he could make up his mind about this wonder of a woman that was perched atop him, her enticing figure pressed against him. She ran her hands down his sides, and he groaned at her touch. She backed away for a breather, and he took a moment to admire her features once more. Kiss-swollen lips, those damned freckles, those eyes. It was always her eyes that got him.

He kissed her once more, lingering on her lips only for a moment before beginning to trail open mouthed kisses up her jaw, to her neck, ending right over her pulse point. He let his tongue run over the area, and was pleased to hear a low moan escape her lips.

_No. No, no, no, NO!_

He released her from his hold, pushing her off his lap and away, jumping to his feet.

“Asra? Is something wrong?” She stepped to him, and he moved further from her.

“I have to leave, I have to go. I’m sorry, Anna.” He stepped back, kissing her once on the cheek, before taking his scarf from the back of the chair he’d occupied, and all but dashed out the door and into the forest.

_What is wrong with me?_


	5. Emotional Machine

He ran for a mile before he stopped, all but collapsing under a large oak tree. The run had not tired him, but his emotions, those were breaking him down faster than he could rebuild himself.

The nighttime sounds of the forest enveloped him. Fireflies shone around him, their luminescence a minimal distraction from the thoughts in his head.

_Light. Brightness. The morning sun. Anna’s face in the morning sun. Her copper hair. Those eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, lighting up whenever she looked at him. Blue eyes like waves crashing in the open sea._

_No, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP. _Stop_ thinking about her!_

But he couldn’t. He absolutely couldn’t. He’d come so close to taking her, and he couldn’t stand himself for it. He could still feel the heat of her lips against his, her small body against him as they sat perched on the sofa together. As they’d danced. How warm she was, how soft, her skin. He loved everything about her.

_I love her. Gods, I love her so much._

“I love her,” he whispered to himself. It seemed that much more real, hearing the words from his own throat. "I am in love with Anna," he said, clearer now.

His mind turned quickly to anger, however. He was angry at himself, for remaining in this position. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He wasn’t supposed to have fallen for her. He was supposed to have taken her to his home, had his way, and disposed of her, just like all the others before her.

Asra was especially enraged at the one who had turned him. All this was his fault, ultimately. He still remembered, mostly. He’d been walking home and had taken a shortcut. In a flash, he’d been pinned to the stone wall of a building, teeth in his neck, rivulets of blood running down his golden-brown skin, seeping into his clothing. The figure took what it wanted and pulled away. A man. Auburn hair, tall. An eyepatch over his right eye, though Asra supposed it was less of a necessity and more of an accessory now. The man bit his own wrist, and with blood oozing from it, forced it into Asra’s mouth.

_Drink,_ he’d commanded. Asra didn’t want to die, so he obliged. He wished he’d known now what drinking would do. He’d have chosen to be drained, over what his life had become.

He remembered the vampire’s blood, cold, viscous, running down his throat. It had seemed like an eternity before he’d been allowed to stop drinking. Asra remembered being filled immediately with an overwhelming sense of strength. His senses sharpened.

His heart stopped. It stopped, and the silence in his chest and in his ears where just moments before he’d heard the pounding, the rushing of what was left of his own blood, was enough to render him completely speechless, bewildered.

Terrified.

_Enjoy your new life,_ the man had laughed, before leaving him alone in the alley. The thirst for blood, more blood, hit him out of nowhere, had him doubled over in agony.

It was that night that he took his first victim. Female, young. And he did so in exactly the same manner that was now his primary practice. Her screams would remain etched in his memory forever, he knew. But oh, how sweet was that first taste of blood, and he relished it.

This was his life now, and he couldn’t handle it anymore. He wanted something different, though he knew that he was now condemned to walk forever as this abomination, this strange creature that only functioned to take human life away. Humans were so fragile. He missed that fragility. He missed being able to be broken. The only things he had that were broken now were his soul, and his heart.

\---

He didn’t go back to Anna’s house for two weeks. When he finally did, he had no intention of speaking to her. She was awake, he saw her bustling around inside before stepping out to the small herb garden behind the cottage. Arian sat patiently on the stoop as she worked. He took cover in a tree as he watched her.

“You know, Arian,” she sighed. “I guess love really is a myth, isn’t it?”

The small animal tilted its head at her, and she continued.

“I thought we were onto something, there. Me and Asra. Gods, what happened? What’s wrong with me? I know it’s been a long time since I was in a relationship. Okay, granted, it’s the only one I was ever in, and that was when I was sixteen, but still! And here comes Asra, with that ridiculous fluffy white hair, his tan skin, those damned _mesmerizing_ violet eyes. I fell for him, and then he just _leaves like that_!” Her voice cracked on the final words. She clutched the edges of the wooden box of herbs on the table at which she stood, gripped it til her knuckles turned white. Asra watched as Arian approached Anna, begged to be picked up. She obliged, and held the fox close. He could hear her sobbing, now.

“Why did he leave me? What did I do? That last day seemed so, so, _perfect._ And here I am now. I can’t do this,” she said glumly, glancing around her at her garden. “Arian, let’s go back to bed.” She put away her tools and gathered up what she had picked before going back inside and shutting the door. Asra moved around the house to get a glimpse into her bedroom window. He watched as she threw herself into bed without even bothering to change, as she buried herself in a cocoon of blankets.

_Look what you’ve done to her. You really are a monster._

He snuck into her house that night, after leaving to procure himself a meal. She hadn’t uninvited him, not yet, so it was easy to slip into her bedroom window. Anna was resting quietly, her breathing easy. He felt a pang in his chest at the sight of her. Her eyes opened then, and she blinked, bleary-eyed and obviously sleepy.

“Asra?” She slurred.

“You’re dreaming,” he whispered.

“It’s a good dream then,” she murmured. “Why did you leave me, Asra?” That feeling again, as she said his name, adoration in her voice.

“I can’t tell you that yet. But I’ll come back to you soon. I promise. I want to come back to you, Anna. And I don’t want to leave you again. Not ever.”

_Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Asra._

“Dream Asra, you’d better tell real Asra what you’ve promised,” she grumbled. “Let him know… I miss him… tell him… I love him…” Her eyes slid shut again. He scrambled from the room before she could wake again.

_You could still take her._

_No. Not now. Not like this. If I take her it’ll be because she wants me to. Body, blood, whatever. It’ll be her choice. Not mine. I can’t._

Asra returned home, a storm of emotions. He wanted to stay at Anna’s house. He wanted to walk into her bedroom, to shake her gently awake, to tell her that he’d never leave her again. Tell her the truth. What he was. What he had wanted from her. And what he wanted now: just to be with her, for as long as he could.

Forever, if he could muster the courage.

Forever, if she’d have him still.


	6. Consequence of Pain

He hadn’t meant to do it.

He’d gone back to Anna’s cottage. _Again._ He always found his way back there, every few days. For the most part, he’d returned to his usual habits, trying to ease the thoughts of Anna out of his brain the best he could. It wouldn’t work. Of course it wouldn’t, now. He loved her. He knew it with everything in him. But late that afternoon, a pretty young thing had wandered up to Anna’s door, and he couldn’t help himself. She’d gotten one knock in when he swiped her from the doorstep and ran, muffling her shout with his scarf. He took her into the forest.

“Please, please, don’t hurt me,” she begged. “Please, I’ll do anything.” She clawed at his sides as he held her flush against him. He could see her pulse throbbing at that point just below her jaw.

“Oh, you sweet thing,” he purred. “I don’t _want_ to hurt you. I just knew though, when I saw you, that I _had_ to have you.” And with that, he bit into her, savoring that first gush of blood, drinking with fervor. He looked across and into the trees as he saw a flash of white. It was Arian. Asra kept drinking, felt the girl beating weakly against his back. He was almost done.

_Oh no. Shit. Please, don’t let Anna be with you. Please, for the love of gods._

Sure enough, however, Anna stepped into view. Her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as she saw Asra, standing there, clutching the girl who was supposed to have been her appointment for the afternoon. He fixed her with his gaze as he drank from the other girl. The supply ran dry, _finally_, and she went slack. He dropped her body into the dirt, letting it fall haphazardly at his feet. Anna was still staring, transfixed at the sight of him. He knew what he must look like to her. His fangs were still visible. His mouth, his face, were smeared with blood. It dripped down his chin, and instinctively, he snapped up the drops, licking his fingers, enjoying the flavor thoroughly.

“I…” She started, before shaking her head, and turning, fleeing the forest as quickly as her feet could carry her.

_Well, you’ve _really_ gone and fucked things up now, haven’t you?_

The body. He needed to dispose of the body. He began to dig, and made short work of burying the poor girl, whispering his apologies as he slung dirt back into the hole. When she was covered and gone, he wiped the dirt from his hands, and made for Anna’s house. He had to talk to her. Explain.

_There's nothing to explain. You're a monster. Tell her that. Tell her how you wanted to kill her... tell her..._

_SHUT UP!_

“Anna!” He called, beating on the door. “Anna, we need to talk.” To his infinite surprise, she answered.

“You can’t come in,” she said hurriedly, a waver in her voice. “That’s how this works, right? If I uninvite you from my house, you can’t come in, no matter what, unless I invite you again.”

“That’s correct,” he replied. “But please, can we talk?”

To his surprise, she took a seat, just inside the door, but out of his arm’s reach. Arian climbed into her lap, all but sneering at Asra.

“What are you?” She demanded, those once cheerful eyes now sharp, cutting into him like a thousand knives.

He sighed heavily, and sat on the front stoop, crossing his legs.

“I’m a vampire, Anna.” She didn't flinch. Why? 

“So all this time, you’ve just been following me around, why?”

“Because I wanted to be close to you. It wasn’t like that, at first though.” He dropped his head low. “At first, I wanted your blood. That was all I wanted.” He looked back to her, steeling himself to continue. Her gaze on him had softened.

“So you were just biding your time, then?”

“I was. I was waiting for the perfect moment. And it seemed it was never going to come. When you refused me, that night at the dock, when I tried to kiss you, Anna, it was like a game had been initiated. I had to have you, even more so than before. I’ve never been denied like that. Not since I turned. My charms didn't work on you, and believe me, I tried."

“What is it then? Is this what you do? Look for vulnerable girls, and strike? Do you always try to get _this_ close to them? Why... why spend so much... _quality time_ with _me_?"

“Admittedly, I never get close. I find my victim, have my way with them, take their blood, and dispose of the body. Quick and dirty.” He winced at his choice of words, but there was no taking them back now.

“Have your way with them…” She frowned. “Do you mean…?”

He swallowed hard. This was embarrassing. “Yes. I take them to bed. And then, while they’re distracted by the act, I bite them.”

“Just how long have you been doing that?”

“I don’t always pick young females. But… it’s been twelve years since I was turned, and they are usually what I choose. Their blood just tastes better,” he sighed. “I don’t know why.”

“And you were going to do all that… to me?” She asked, her voice breathy. “You were going to sleep with me, and then kill me.”

“To put it that plainly, yes. But I don’t want that anymore.”

She shooed Arian away to pull her knees up to her chin. Her skirt today was a deep mustard yellow, he noted, a lovely contrast to her skin.

_Her soft, warm skin, those freckles dancing across her nose, down her arms. Gods, she was beautiful._

_Focus, Asra._

“What _do_ you want then?” She asked slowly, cautiously.

“To be with you,” he said simply. “The time we’ve spent together, Anna, I can’t describe how happy you’ve made me feel. You’ve been the only bright spot in this life I have. I think I started falling for you right away, as soon as I heard you singing, but it’s taken me a long while to come clean to myself.”

“You want to be with me,” she repeated. “Be with me, how?” She shifted again, crossing her legs, arranging her skirt around her, crossing her arms.

“I want…” He paused. He wasn’t sure how to put it into words. “I want to share your days. Your nights. I want to share everything with you. I want you, as a person, as a whole.” He looked straight into her eyes as he spoke the words.

_I love you, Anna. I love you, I love you, I hope you still love me, the way you said you did. Please, oh please. Anna, I love you so._

The words were right there. Why couldn’t he say them?

“But what about my… my body? My _blood_? Are you still going to take my blood, if I let you back into my life?” She bit her lip.

“I’ll never take anything from you without your permission,” he said firmly. "I mean it. I don't know what my words are worth to you now, but I promise, even so."

_Soft. You grew soft. _

He willed the voice in his head away. No more time for chastising himself. This was it. This was real. He loved Anna, and there was no going back.

“Can I… can I have time to think about all this?” She asked.

“Of course,” he said quietly. “I’m not forcing anything on you. I won’t, I promise. If you want me gone, forever, all you have to do is ask.”

“Just… give me time.” She rose to stand, as did he.

“Goodnight,” she told him forlornly. “And Asra?”

“Yes, Anna?”

“Be kind to yourself. For me."


	7. Love Without Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Here be smut. If you are squicked by said smut, please cease to read beyond the text break.

_Be kind to yourself_, she’d said. Her words echoed with him for the next several days, and he mulled over them constantly. _For me._ How could she have said that? Did she have to use those exact words?

_It hurts to be kind_. _But I'll do anything for you._

He didn’t hear from her at all. Out of respect, he stayed away from her home. As much as it pained him, he knew he had to let her choose, now. For days, he merely existed, a shell of a shell. He took a couple victims, but they were older. He couldn’t bring himself to touch another young woman. He’d tried, just once, and when she screamed, all he could hear was Anna. He let the poor girl run off into the night, crying.

How had it come to this? He wasn’t as angry anymore, but he still wondered. Sure, he’d been human once, but to have a human love him now, love him as he was? It was unfathomable.

He returned one evening from feeding to find a familiar figure leaning against his door. Tall, lanky. Auburn hair and an eyepatch.

“You. What the ever-loving FUCK do you want?” Asra shouted at the man. His creator.

_No. My destroyer._

“Just came to see how you’re faring,” he said blithely. “You seem to be doing well, you’ve not wasted away yet.”

“Get away from me,” Asra hissed. “Leave here. Never come back. I hate you, hate what you’ve made me.”

The man laughed cruelly.

“Should I care? I’m not here to be liked. If I were, I’d have died a long time ago.”

“Why did you turn me?” Asra demanded.

“I thought it would be fun.” He approached Asra, grinning widely, fangs glinting. “I’ve seen you about town. You’ve certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself over the years.”

“Leave me alone,” Asra said through gritted teeth.

“Very well. But I’ll be watching you.” The other vampire said smoothly, turning and stalking down an alleyway. Asra listened as the clack of boots grew fainter and disappeared altogether. Anger flared anew in him. If not for that abomination, what would have happened to him? He’d still be human. Be alive. He could be with Anna, maybe.

_Would we even have met if I weren’t what I am now?_ He didn’t know.

He wandered the city that night, a ball of self-loathing and seething hatred. Something drew him to the docks. He remembered clearly, the night he’d sat there with Anna.

_“I love the sea.”_

_Stop thinking about her. Stop. It's over. You lost. You failed._

Someone already occupied a space at the end of the dock, silhouetted against the rising moon. Lilting notes filled the air around them as they sang. He stilled.

_It’s her._

_“…And I made myself believe_  
_Other people wanted to hurt me_  
_ I took my bitterness and made it sweet_  
_ I took a broken heart and made it beat…_

_…Somebody hurt me long ago_  
_And though to heal a heart is slow_  
_ It's just a consequence of pain_  
_ There is no use in laying blame…_

_…And I guess I've known it all along_  
_The truth is you have to be soft to be strong_  
_ Finally, I feel the fear is gone_  
_ I found out love has to be soft to be strong_  
_ Soft to be strong…”_

He took a few steps closer as she stopped singing, hoping she’d start again. Her voice was like a healing rain, and he wanted to bathe in it. He stepped quietly, but panic rose in him as he saw her tilt her head and turn slowly. He was off in a flash, hoping she hadn’t seen him.

_Fuck. Please don’t let her have seen me. Just let her live her life, free of me. The way it should be. Let her be safe, happy._

\---

He arrived home and was fumbling with the locks on the door, driven by his anxiety to get inside, to hide away, as fast as he could.

“Asra?”

He spun quickly to find Anna standing at his elbow.

“Anna! I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you back there. Please, I swear.”

“I know. It’s not like I’ve laid claim to the docks, you know. Anyone is free to roam where they want.” She made a silly face at him, before breaking into a grin, but he couldn’t bring himself to smile back.

_That smile. That goddamned smile. Why? I don’t deserve it._

“Why are you here, Anna?” Asra asked cautiously.

“I thought about things,” she told him. “Thank you, for giving me time.” He nodded.

“So…” he began.

“I love you,” she cut him off abruptly. He gaped at her.

“You… you…”

She eased closer to him, slipping arms around his waist.

“You heard me, didn’t you? Aren’t vampires supposed to have excellent hearing?”

“I… what… you…” he stammered. “You love me?”

“Yes,” she replied simply.

“Anna,” he said quietly, enveloping her in a tight hug, before pulling back to look down at her.

“Hmm?”

“May I kiss you?”

“Yes,” she answered.

His lips were on hers without a second thought, and he kissed her deeply, feeling the thrill of her heart in her chest as she pressed against him. He finally broke away to return to the door, this time deftly undoing the locks and swinging it open wide.

“Will you come in?” He asked quietly. He was hoping she’d say yes. Expecting it, but only just barely.

What he was _not_ expecting was for her to all but leap on him, tugging on his shirt to make him bend, bringing his lips back to her own.

“Gods, I want you so badly right now,” he confessed, a mere whisper against her lips.

“Then take me,” she whispered back. “I’m yours.”

_She’s mine. She loves me. Oh gods, oh gods, she loves me._

He released her just long enough to shut the door and lock it again, then picked her up gently, carrying her upstairs. The bed was actually made, for once, and he pulled the covers back, sitting her down on the edge of the mattress. She kicked her shoes off, looking up at him expectantly.

_Lovingly. What did I do to deserve this?_ He removed his boots and sat beside her.

“You’re sure that you want this?” He eyed her with concern.

“Yes,” she said confidently, scooting back to recline against the mountain of pillows in the center of the bed. “Do you?”

"Gods, yes." The words escaped him as a low growl as he moved to straddle her hips. He removed his shirt and scarf, tossing them to the floor, before hooking his thumbs under the hem of her blouse.

“May I?” She nodded in response. He slipped her shirt off to reveal a simple white undergarment, the buttons of which he undid with shaking hands. When he’d reached the last button, she shimmied out of the fabric, throwing it on the floor with his already discarded clothing. He paused for a moment to lean down and kiss her hungrily. She ran her fingertips up his sides, over his shoulders, and he moaned low into the kiss.

“Touch me, Asra,” she begged. “Please?”

He was all too happy to oblige, moving his hands up to cup her breasts, letting his thumbs circle over her nipples. She whimpered, arching her back, rolling her hips against his own, eliciting a deep gasp from him. He was already hard, and the sensation, gods, the sensation of her pressing against him was almost enough to undo him right then and there. He rose up to loosen the lacing on her skirt, and she lifted her hips to allow him to pull it, along with her underwear, off.

_Gods, she’s beautiful._

Standing for a moment, he shed his pants, thankful for the freedom, before clambering back onto the bed, slotting his body against her own, kissing her again with a fervor. She nipped at his bottom lip and he twitched.

“Excuse you,” he said, glancing down at her, feigning indignance.

“Fair’s fair,” she winked at him.

He moved lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her body, taking his time, admiring every dip and curve of her figure. Gently, he placed his hands on her knees.

“Anna?”

She didn’t answer, but parted her legs. He lay between them, and carefully, experimentally, ran a single digit against her slit.

“Gods, you’re wet,” he hissed. He slipped his finger inside, curling it as he did so, and she bucked her hips against his hand.

“Asra…”

“Yes?” He grinned devilishly as he met her eyes, inserting a second finger, beginning to thrust lazily, propping his head on the other hand.

“Asra, please…”

“You’re going to have to tell me what you want, Anna. I’m a vampire, not a mind reader.” She made a face at him, and he chuckled. He knelt down, running his tongue lightly over her clit, and she moaned, clutched at the sheets.

“I… that. Keep doing that,” she muttered. Within moments, she was bucking into his hand, moaning his name as she came. Satisfied with his work, Asra drew back, licking his fingers.

_God, she _does_ taste good. _He crawled back up to press against her.

“Asra…” she breathed. “Please.”

“Please what, Anna? You know, you keep saying that. I can’t—”

“Asra, if you don’t shut your mouth and fuck me _right now_, we’re going to have words later.”

Something snapped in him. He aligned his hips with hers, pushing into her with one swift, one _hard_, thrust, grinning to himself as she cried out. He set a breakneck pace at once, enjoying the view of her writhing on the bed below him. He hunched over, burying his head in the crook of her neck, slowing just a bit.

“Asra,” she gasped. “Asra…”

“Hmm? Gods, Anna, you feel _so good._ So _soft. So _fucking_ warm."_ He accentuated the words with quick thrusts.

“Asra,” she whispered into his ear. “You can bite me. If you want to.”

_Oh, gods._

"Not right now,” he told her, and rose back up, changing his angle, bringing two fingers to rub circles on her clit as he continued to move.

“Asra, I’m— I’m close…”

“Me… too…” He managed to get out.

“Come,” she begged. “Please.” It was all he needed, and they came together, bodies tangled in one another, coming down from their highs to rest quietly as he pulled out, flopping onto his back next to her.

“Asra.”

Yes?” He rolled to face her, and she turned onto her side, fixing him with an intense stare.

“I meant what I said.”

“That I can bite you?” He replied quietly.

“Yes.” She tilted her head back into the pillows, craning her neck.

“You know how much I’ve wanted this. You’re absolutely sure?”

“You won’t take much, right?”

“Just a sip.” He chuckled as she swatted at his arm.

“Do it. Now.” She commanded. He lowered his teeth to her pulse point, cresting his fangs over the spot before biting, as gently as he could. She squirmed, crying out quietly, and he gathered her in his arms. Five mouthfuls. That was all he’d take.

_One. Two. Three. Four. Five._ He counted as he drank, and savored the sweetness, the tang, as her blood passed his lips, ran down his throat. It was the best he’d ever tasted. He broke away to lick at the marks he’d made, cleaning her neck thoroughly.

“Is… is that all? That’s all you want?” She peered up at him through half-lidded eyes.

“For now,” he told her softly. “You know…”

“What?” She kissed him softly, and he smiled. Her eyes were bright, warm, full of love.

_Love for me._

“I love you. And…”

“And?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Just like tonight, you don’t need to give any more of yourself, ever, unless you’re willing and ready. After all, we _could_ have forever, if you want it.”


	8. Handmade Heaven

Asra didn’t really need to sleep, it was more of an outlet for boredom for him than anything else. But that night he slept, holding Anna close. 

“It’s like spooning an icicle,” she had giggled at first, soon dissolving into wild laughter as he’d tickled her.

“I can’t believe you called me an icicle,” he’d snickered, fingertips light and teasing on her sides, delighting at watching her squirm.

“On the bright side,” she grinned, those blue eyes flashing mischievously, “at least you seem to be warming up to me. I just hope you don’t melt.” He’d groaned, pulling her back against him to cradle her softly, made sure she was wrapped well with covers and warm before she drifted off.

He woke just before dawn. She still rested quietly, breathing easy and calm.

_This is really happening. She knows. She knows everything, and she still chose me. She could have anyone else, but she picked me. _

He shifted slightly, and she stirred.

“Hmm.” She rolled to face him. "Hi."

“Good morning,” he breathed. “Sleep well?”

“Like the dead,” she bit her lip, barely holding back more laughter as he made a face at her.

“Is this what I’ve gotten myself into? An incredible young woman with a penchant for bad puns?”

“Gotten… yourself… into…” She giggle-snorted. “You certainly did…”

“That is NOT what I meant,” he huffed. "I must say, you've offended my delicate sensibilities."

"Oh, sure, delicate. You." He hugged her tighter.

"Yes indeed." He stuck his tongue out at her.

She stifled more laughter. "Are the jokes a problem?”

“Not at all. They just make you that much cuter.” He leaned in to kiss her once again, reveling in the feel of her lips against his.

It was noon before they finally disentangled from each other and got out of bed. Both donned their now-rumpled clothing from the night before. Anna wandered the room, inspecting the items left on the dresser and the remaining shelves there.

“Asra, there’s enough dust here that I could make a sculpture of you and have some left to spare.”

“I’m sure you’d sweep the competition,” he shot back smoothly, raising an eyebrow at her. She picked up a pillow from the bed and chucked it at him.

“That was terrible.”

“All’s fair in love and puns, Anna.”

“You should come to my house,” she said softly, crossing the room to hug him. “Less dust. A bit cozier than an otherwise abandoned magic shop, if I do say so myself. And… you might want to bring a few changes of clothes, in case you decide to stay… what was it you said? _Forever_?”

He ruffled her already-disorganized shock of copper hair.

“You think I should, huh?”

“I think it’d be prudent.”

“Very well then,” he told her. “If you’ll have me, I’m all yours.”

“Well, you know I want you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Anna.”

\--- 

He moved what few belongings he had into her cottage, and with her help, cleaned out the old shop and living quarters above it. He was able to sell the place relatively quickly, making a good amount of coin in the process. He used some of it to refurnish the cottage. What she had was worn by time, some of it barely held together. She’d been embarrassed, but he insisted.

“If I’m going to live here,” he’d joked, “I’m going to sit on chairs that don’t threaten to throw me on the floor on occasion.”

He stopped using young women as victims, period. He absolutely couldn’t do it anymore. He and Anna didn’t talk much about his feeding, but she never seemed to mind when he disappeared for a while at night, never flinched when he came back in, smelling of blood and licking his lips. She accepted him for what he was, and it meant the world to him.

The questions, however, came frequently. She was obviously interested in knowing all she could about him, how he functioned.

“If you drink blood,” she’d asked him one day, while cooking breakfast for herself, “how come you’ve eaten meals with me before?”

“Oh, just to spend time with you. Human food tastes like chewing on paper to me now. But it was worth it. I’d do anything in the world just to spend a few more minutes with you out of each day.” He’d smiled at her, his violet eyes twinkling in the morning sun streaming in the window.

“That’s all well and good, and very sweet,” she’d laughed. “But how do you know what paper tastes like?”

“I… you know what, don’t you have herbs to grind?”

He relished the moments they spent like this. Her silliness, her laughter, all of it. She was funny and witty, spontaneous, and gods, was she stubborn as hell.

_But she’s all mine. And I’m hers. _

Months passed in an easy accord. She allowed him to drink from her on a regular basis. Always just a small amount, but he thought back to words that had crossed his mind earlier in the year.

_I could drink of Anna a thousand times, and be happy._

He’d have been happy without the blood. He was merely happy just by being with her. Finally. He couldn’t imagine life without her. He knew that someday she’d want to turn, but for now he spent his days wrapped up in her, simply overjoyed that they had time together.

“Asra,” she’d whispered to him one night, as they lay curled up together. “When you said forever, what exactly did you mean?”

“You know I’m immortal,” he’d told her grimly. “You’d have to become like me.”

“Doesn’t that entail… dying?” She pursed her lips. “Does it hurt?”

“No. It’s strange, when your heart stops. The worst thing was the immediate thirst for blood.”

“Is it hard to choose victims?”

“It has been, for me, now. But not usually.” He’d told her about his abstinence from young women, and she was grateful. She’d insisted that he could still take their blood if absolutely necessary, but he was firm in the matter. She was the only one he’d have from now on, and she gave freely and willingly to him, of her own accord.

“Are you willing to make me like you, when I’m ready?” She asked another night. He answered with a soft kiss to her forehead, smoothing her short bangs back.

“I’ll do whatever you want, but it will have to be your choice. I didn’t choose this life for myself, it was forced upon me. I’ll never force anything on you. Not myself, not becoming this creature that I am now.”

“I know. But I really do want you forever,” she said. “Really and truly. And that’s not going to change.”

“Forever it is, then,” Asra told her, kissing her lovingly. “Here’s to our lives. Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was inspired by Marina's album Love + Fear. Title and chapter titles were taken from lyrics or song titles. I'd highly recommend the album. 
> 
> Thanks to all who have read this. I certainly had fun writing it. 
> 
> And keep your eyes peeled, you may see Asra and Anna again soon...


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